


The Mountie, his Wolf, the Cop, his Car and his Sister

by julien (julie)



Series: A Cop and a Mountie [1]
Category: due South
Genre: M/M, My First Work in This Fandom
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 1996-01-01
Updated: 1996-01-01
Packaged: 2020-09-26 05:43:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,544
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20384620
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/julie/pseuds/julien
Summary: Ray has lost his beloved Buick Riviera. Fraser is facing the loss of Diefenbaker. They turn to each other for comfort.





	The Mountie, his Wolf, the Cop, his Car and his Sister

**Author's Note:**

> **Notes:** Ah, my first DUE SOUTH story… One gets rather sentimental about such things. Because it was my first, and I hadn’t been paying terribly close attention to the series (it took me ages to fall, but when I did I fell badly), and I had none of it on videotape, this story contains some wild inaccuracies when drawing on the detail of the actual episodes. Please consider yourself warned! 
> 
> **First published:** 1 January 1996 in my zine Pure Maple Syrup

# The Mountie, his Wolf, the Cop, his Car and his Sister 

♦

‘It’s been a tough few days,’ Ray Vecchio observed, feeling he had to say something to prevent the silence weighing too heavy. He was loitering around a window in Fraser’s tenement room – loitering with intent to comfort the man who sat so still on the rickety bed.

‘Yes,’ Benton Fraser replied, his usual polite attentiveness only slightly distracted. A pause before the Mountie made a suitable contribution to the conversation. ‘I never quite understood how you felt about your car, Ray, but I respected those feelings. And I respect how you must feel now that the car is gone. Grief is a difficult burden.’

Ray grunted something, remembering again his beautiful dark green Buick Riviera, remembering the staggering bright explosion as his last bullet ignited the high octane gas in its tank. It had been Fraser’s idea, their only chance to incapacitate the three hoodlums out in the parking lot who were better armed than the cop and the Mountie and their prisoner. Fraser’s idea, all right, though Ray had been the one to pull the trigger. ‘Grief, yeah,’ Ray muttered, thinking that no one else understood either, but at least the Mountie didn’t laugh at him or make snide remarks unlike some others he could mention. Even his mother and his sister Francesca were alarmingly unsympathetic.

The silence began to weigh Ray down again. Benton Fraser was sitting there on his bed, feet planted firmly on the floor, leaning slightly forward with his elbows on his knees, gazing off into the nowhere of imagination. His RCMP uniform was as neat and shiny as ever, with its red jacket and polished boots and brass buttons. It seemed incongruous with this terrible apartment building, the grotty room and its shabby furniture, which was all Fraser could or would afford by way of accommodation. The Mountie did not belong in this place – in this room, in Chicago – and yet he was here. As civilised and as duty-bound as his pet wolf. But something about the man wild, too, because like the wolf Fraser really belonged out there in the snow and mountains and forests of Canada.

The wolf, Diefenbaker. That was why Ray was here tonight, of course. Ray had lost his car, and Fraser was about to lose his beloved wolf. ‘Did you go visit him?’ Ray asked.

Of course Fraser knew who Ray was referring to. ‘Yes. I sat in the cell with him, and talked with him. He didn’t want me to stay.’

‘There’s really nothing we can do?’

‘No.’ Fraser thought about this some more, and then shook his head decisively. _No._ Very stoic, though Ray knew the man was hurting.

Ray sighed. Being a Chicago cop of some years’ experience, he had tried bribing the animal control officer and the judge and everyone else involved – none of it had worked. Fraser had tried everything that was legal and reasonable, and none of that had worked either. The Mountie still seemed stunned by the senseless fact that he had done everything right, and yet this terrible thing would happen. Diefenbaker would be put down in the morning.

Fraser was already mourning. And Ray – not caring much for legalities when they weren’t fair and weren’t right, Ray would have found some way of making it not happen if he could, though he knew Constable Benton Fraser would not thank him for it, just as he had not appreciated the attempted bribery.

‘I’m sorry, Fraser,’ Ray said. For he had come here to comfort the man, after all, or at least express some solidarity during this night’s long wait. Those seconds between knowing he would have to blow up the Riviera and actually pulling the trigger – Ray remembered those as amongst the worst hours of his life.

‘Thank you kindly, Ray,’ the fellow said, with his simple sincerity.

But Ray didn’t want gratitude for words so meaningless. He’d been hovering around by the window – he now walked over to sit beside Fraser on the bed.

‘I know you understand,’ the Mountie was continuing, ‘because of the Riviera. There was no finer car.’

A wry smile as Ray recognised his own words. _No finer car…_ It was scorched scraps of metal now, the genuine parts he’d hunted for were nothing more than charred junk.

‘And I understand how you feel about me and Diefenbaker. You want to help, but there’s nothing you can do. That’s very frustrating.’

‘It is,’ Ray confirmed.

‘I appreciate you visiting tonight.’

‘That’s all right.’

‘You have your own grief – it’s good of you to share in mine. You’re a kind man, Ray.’

‘No, I’m not,’ Ray muttered. But he thought about it, uncomfortable knowing that the Mountie’s direct honest gaze was turned on him. ‘Yeah, all right,’ he said, allowing the point. ‘What can I say? You bring out the sap in me.’

To Ray’s surprise, Fraser lifted an arm around Ray’s shoulders, touch firm but light, reassuring and undemanding. That was nice, yeah, it felt real nice.

But Ray had come here to comfort the Mountie, and again the fellow was decent enough to comfort Ray instead. ‘Is that a Mountie thing?’ Ray asked for the hundredth time since he first met Fraser. ‘You just have to be kinder than everyone else.’

A small smile at this joke running between them, though Fraser answered seriously. ‘No, Ray. That would be far too competitive, and therefore ultimately self-defeating.’

‘Huh,’ Ray responded with a laugh. Well, if there were words for this, the cop hadn’t found them yet. In answer to that simple hug, Ray eased an arm around the Mountie’s waist. Compared to Fraser’s, this gesture of Ray’s felt complicated and tawdry and odd. Fraser didn’t fit here, next to a seedy Chicago cop. Yes, Ray felt seedy and ugly and corrupted sitting here next to a fellow who was so innately decent that he really shouldn’t be as fascinating as he undeniably was.

Fascinating, indeed. And handsome. Every woman in Chicago, including Ray’s sister Francesca, wanted the fellow – and the Mountie, if he noticed at all, seemed to have no idea why.

‘It is a strange thing,’ Fraser said in that quiet deliberate voice of his. ‘I have thought about death. I have no fear of it for myself. But it is a strange thing to think of what Diefenbaker will face tomorrow.’

‘No fear? You’re not afraid of dying?’

‘No, I’m not. But I find it unsettling thinking of Diefenbaker. I talked to him, but I don’t know if he’s really aware of what’s going to happen. I’m not sure if he is as prepared as I would be.’ Fraser let out a short breath, which was as much of a sigh as he would allow himself. ‘He wouldn’t tell me why. There’s something going on that he won’t talk about. I don’t know why this has happened.’

Ray rolled his eyes, but didn’t let Fraser see. The Mountie sincerely believed he could converse with the wolf – even though, on top of all the obvious things like their differing species, the wolf was deaf and relied on lip-reading. ‘I don’t know why either,’ Ray offered.

They sat there, each with an arm around the other, gazing at nothing in particular. Ray thought maybe Fraser was seeing the future in the dim corners of the grotty room, seeing the wolf’s ignoble end and his own bereavement.

‘It’s bleak, isn’t it?’ Ray said. ‘No Riviera and no wolf. Look, Fraser, I know that you and I didn’t exactly like each other much at first –’

Fraser’s directness, his eyes catching a glint of light. The Mountie was often so difficult to read, and that glint only served to shut the cop out further.

Ray ran out of words, which he hated. If Fraser hid behind that hard glint, Ray knew he hid behind a torrent of talk.

Well, the Mountie often didn’t need words. In his simple way, Fraser leaned his head closer, Ray mirroring the movement by instinct, and they came to rest with their foreheads together. Fraser was generally a reserved kind of fellow, but the few times he got physical Ray found him disarmingly affectionate. The Mountie quietly said, ‘Yes, we have become friends. I don’t feel that everything is bleak, and that’s partly because of our friendship.’

Strange wayward urge then. Perhaps it had something to do with never before being this close to such an open and vulnerable man. Perhaps the moment echoed back to a friend of Ray’s early years who had encouraged a little experimentation, a little harmless release of those demanding teenage hormones. Who had, to be frank, used an eager and untried Ray Vecchio. Perhaps Ray never would have acted on this urge if it hadn’t been months since he’d last had a date. Or if Fraser hadn’t been looking so trustingly in need of… Could this be comfort? Ray tilted his head and met the Mountie’s lips with his own.

The briefest surprise, which was put aside, and then Fraser responded, as politely as the gentle man he was. Yes, mouth as sweet and true and innocent as Fraser himself. And that hint of the wilds and nature – and even a sophistication beyond Ray’s world-weariness.

The kiss, unusual though it was, had a beginning and a middle and a parting… Ray and Fraser looked at each other. The Mountie, in his serious kind of way, smiled a little. ‘Ray,’ he said, ‘is this a Chicago cop thing?’

‘Hah!’ Ray grinned, liking the fellow’s humour. ‘No, it isn’t. Don’t you dare breathe a word of this to anyone.’

‘Of course not, Ray.’

‘There’s no _of course not_ about it. You’re so damned honest –’

Fraser was watching him, that alarming glint in his eye, but they still had an arm around each other. ‘Honesty is often the best policy, you’re quite correct. However, I would not betray your confidence in me as a friend.’

‘Hell, if the guys at the station ever heard about this –’ Ray grimaced, wondering at how stupid he could be.

The Mountie was saying, ‘It’s all right, Ray. I understand, though I realise that other people wouldn’t. We all need the warmth of human contact, perhaps more regularly than we allow ourselves.’ With more introspection, Fraser said, ‘So often it’s impossible to do anything of the sort with honour.’ And then his gaze returned to Ray. ‘Would it be imposing on our friendship for me to kiss you again?’

Ray shook his head _no_ more by instinct than reason. And that mouth met his, as reassuring and undemanding as the hug. Sweetness, uncompromised sweetness. The Mountie turned out to be damned good at this, when Ray had begun to suspect the fellow hadn’t much if any experience, despite the eagerness of women everywhere. Digging deep, Ray tried to find something pure in himself with which to answer the man.

When Ray lifted his free hand to that perfect face, he was glad that Fraser choose to caress Ray’s shoulder instead of matching the move. Ray was feeling particularly unattractive, so he kept his eyes shut tight, and thought only of the other man. Thinking of how that perfectly ironed uniform never displayed a speck of Chicago grime, no matter that Fraser had walked through mud or waded in garbage or been thrown into the street.

Nice. Distracting. Comforting. Hopefully Fraser found this to be all those things. Innocent. On a date, by now Ray’s hands would have wandered somewhat further, and he would have completely dishonourable intentions – though there seemed to be none beyond this, on the Mountie’s part at least. Ray was rediscovering innocence, like they were both youngsters, neither of them prepared or even really wanting to take the next step. And the Mountie, while he obviously knew how to kiss, maybe he – 

Ray broke away, just far enough to see Fraser’s beautiful and slightly disoriented face. ‘I’ve got to know something.’

‘Yes?’

Best just to blurt it out. Really no other way. ‘Are you a virgin?’

‘No, I am not, Ray.’

‘Yeah? You haven’t had a girlfriend here. Is there a woman back home?’

Something in those direct eyes flickered, just for a moment. ‘No. There was a young woman once. I told you about her when we were on a stake-out, and you’d fallen in love with a woman you didn’t even know.’

‘You told me already?’

‘Unfortunately I looked up afterwards and discovered you had fallen asleep.’

Ray smiled, sheepish. ‘Sorry. Tell me again.’ Wondering if he really wanted to know, but thinking it would be rude not to show an interest.

‘Her name was Victoria. I found her trapped on the side of a mountain, she would have died if I hadn’t. We spent the night sharing our body warmth, watching the aurora borealis. I thought it was love, but I could have been mistaken.’ Fraser frowned in thought, the way he did. ‘She and I spent a few days together, we both almost died, but we made it to the nearest outpost. Then we parted ways. It ended badly.’ And he said, in a quiet voice, ‘There was something restless in her, a darkness.’

Ray gazed at the man, fascinated all over again. Surely, yes, surely everyone had something dark in them compared to this fellow, though apparently that didn’t mean Fraser couldn’t love them. There seemed to be more to this tale than Fraser was telling him, but it was enough to be getting on with. Ray said, ‘That’s a sad story.’

‘Yes.’

‘I’m sorry. I’m meant to be comforting you, but I just make you feel even worse.’

‘You don’t make me sad, Ray.’ Though the Mountie sighed, a longer and more indulgent sigh than Ray had heard from him before. ‘Have you ever seen the aurora borealis? When you’re watching it with a strange and beautiful woman in your arms and she’s reciting poetry, it’s hard to remember that the northern lights are nothing more than the interaction of electrons and protons from space with the atoms of the upper atmosphere.’

And Ray thought then, though he really didn’t associate anything romantic to the notion, _This guy will break my heart._ Carefully, he traced that absurdly handsome face with his grimy finger. ‘Let me kiss you again.’

Fraser nodded once, not reluctant.

But Ray didn’t lean close. Time passed, and his discomfort didn’t matter because Fraser was so patient. ‘Would it be imposing on our friendship,’ Ray said very slowly, ‘for me to make love to you?’

The gaze slid away, and the brow knotted – Fraser apparently had to think about this. ‘I don’t know, Ray. I haven’t had the experience to know what to expect.’ Then that directness returned, that regard slamming into Ray like a slug from a Colt. ‘What do you intend?’

‘For tonight? Yeah.’ Ray shrugged, discomfort abruptly overwhelming. Trust Fraser to ask for a detailed itinerary beforehand. ‘Just something simple, right? I want to touch you. We could – I don’t believe I’m actually saying this – jerk each other off. No need for anything more than that.’

‘That would satisfy you?’

‘Oh yeah. I mean, I haven’t done this for years. With a man. Well, we were boys really, I guess I was sixteen.’ He tried, but Ray couldn’t look Fraser in the eye. ‘All right, if you want the truth, there was a guy when I was twenty, as well. A bit of a fling, which was crazy for a guy who’d just become a cop. The rest were all women, I swear it. This is strictly between you and me, right? Don’t you dare tell a soul.’ And the belligerence gave him the courage to look at this man.

‘It wouldn’t be an imposition, Ray,’ the Mountie said softly. He lifted his hand to caress Ray’s face.

The cop flinched. ‘Don’t. So much ugliness around here. Might rub off on you.’

‘No, it won’t.’ And Fraser leaned closer, not letting Ray withdraw, and began kissing him again with the sweetest grace Ray had ever known.

♦

The next morning, they found Diefenbaker had escaped from the pound, aided and abetted by the young boy who’d been minding the wolf in the first place. The kid no doubt felt bad for letting Diefenbaker out on the streets, where he’d been running with some dog friends when he’d been caught.

The trail left by the kid and the wolf led north towards the Canadian border. Somewhere on the way, amidst the snow and the crisp blue sky, Ray gazed out the windshield of the ghastly excuse for a car he’d borrowed from the station, and Fraser said, ‘Ray, can we talk?’

‘No,’ the cop replied in his firmest tones.

Silence for a few heavy heartbeats and then, ‘With respect, Ray, I think it would be best if we talked about what happened last night.’

‘No, trust me on this. It would not be best.’

‘Are you sure?’

Ray had forgotten the Mountie’s damned persistence. ‘Sure I’m sure. I’m absolutely positive that nothing happened. Just leave it alone, Fraser.’

The fellow was full of doubt at this approach. ‘As you know, I haven’t had the experience – But it seems difficult to simply put it behind us, pretend that –’

‘That’s the way it works, Fraser. That’s the way this is going to work. And you can’t force me to talk about it by skirmishing round the edges like this.’

‘Oh.’ And they drove on in silence.

When they caught up with Diefenbaker, the Mountie saved the wolf’s life (having more faith in his lupine friend than in the corrupt animal control officer), and they discovered that Diefenbaker had fallen in love. That’s what this little adventure had been about – the wolf had fallen in love, his girlfriend had needed rescuing, and Dief had almost lost his life over it.

The woman back in Chicago who owned Diefenbaker’s girlfriend and their litter of alarmingly cute pups – Well, she obviously hoped the Mountie would follow the wolf’s example. What a sap.

Fraser and Diefenbaker finally left to go home to that squalid tenement building. Out in the street Fraser, decent gentleman that he was, looked Ray squarely in the eyes and said with all the sincerity in him, ‘Thank you kindly for the comfort, Ray. It was much appreciated.’

Ray Vecchio, veteran of countless gross stupidities, just shrugged angrily and walked off.

♦

Luckily, Ray heard about it first from Fraser. Not that it was the kind of thing he wanted to hear from anyone. Apparently Francesca, Ray’s baby sister, in her never-ending pursuit of the Mountie, had gone to Fraser’s room late the previous night, shed a few pertinent clothes, and (in Fraser’s words) offered herself to him. Fraser, for the sake of honour and Francesca’s reputation, wouldn’t tell Ray what had happened next.

In frustration and annoyance and – face it –fear, Ray groaned. He had the briefest flash of sensation, a physical memory of this man blessing Ray with his hands and mouth, Fraser’s innocence unhindered by self-consciousness. It had been a couple of weeks now since they’d had sex, but the vividness refused to fade. Ray put the thought from him yet again, wanting only to leave it all behind.

What mattered now was Ray’s concern for Francesca, who would only hurt herself over this. The Mountie would be all right, would remain whole and unblemished no matter what. Francesca, though…

‘Look,’ Ray tried to explain to the Mountie, ‘if anyone was going to sleep with my sister, I hope it would be you –’

Fraser replied, ‘That’s very generous of you, Ray.’

But Fraser didn’t love her, and never would, and if Francesca wasn’t careful she would break her heart and soul over this guy.

Luckily, Ray heard about it first from Fraser, because there was a buzz of gossip around the police station. Luckier still, Ray was soon distracted by the case he was working on – a young girl had been missing for a couple of days, and a woebegone transient had just turned up with some confusing information that suggested she’d been kidnapped. This information had apparently come to the transient in psychic images, but Fraser took the guy seriously. Fraser and Ray were soon on the trail, making the FBI agents who’d joined the case look as slow and stupid as ever.

The Mountie and the cop and the transient rescued the girl, of course. Back at the station there was more gossip. Francesca was still there, talking to whoever would listen about her latest escapade with the Mountie. Elaine whispered to Ray, ‘Your sister propositioned Fraser.’

‘I know, I know.’

‘She said he looked like a terrified squirrel just about to be run over by a car.’ The woman was unwillingly fascinated by this, being as hopelessly in need of the Mountie as every other female in Chicago.

‘What else did she say?’ Ray asked flatly. What a fool his sister was being, what a poor deluded fool.

‘Nothing. At least, I didn’t stay to hear any more.’

_Like there’s more to hear._ Ray shuddered, though he had time to remember that Benton Fraser had _not_ looked like a squirrel transfixed by looming headlamps when Ray Vecchio had propositioned him. A little disoriented by grief, yes – but fear, no.

Ray finally found his wayward sibling. She was all dolled up, madly overdressed for a visit to her brother’s place of work. No doubt hoping for a date… Ray dragged her into an interrogation room. ‘What the hell did you do to him?’ Ray demanded.

No details were forthcoming.

And then Ray realised he sounded more protective of Fraser than of Francesca. ‘No,’ he said, anguished and hard and trying to make her see. The things in Fraser that the women all loved were the very things that doomed their hopes. ‘You’re not the girl he’s going to marry. You’ll hurt yourself over him, and he won’t even notice. If only you could see how useless this is.’

She stood alone then, defiant and sure and true. ‘You know your problem, Ray? You’ve forgotten how to dream. I’m not afraid to dream, and to go after what I want. But you – without dreams, you’ll grow old, and alone, and die.’

Ray was quite astounded by this. He stood there, wondering at it. _I’ve forgotten how to dream._ Francesca left, still not telling him whether she’d actually slept with the Mountie or not. And Ray tried to remember the last dream he’d had.

There had been Susan, that woman Fraser had reminded him of – Ray supposed he hadn’t told Francesca about her. The woman who had knocked him over with her car, and stopped to pick him up off the road. Ray had opened his eyes to see her face (not pretty, but drawing beauty from her strength) hovering over him like a guardian angel. He and Fraser had discovered she was the girlfriend of the gun-runner they were after. She and Ray had a moment alone and, instead of speaking, they had walked right up to each other and kissed. Passionately. And then – when Ray had finally thoroughly compromised himself by suggesting she escape before the other cops arrived – he found out Susan was an undercover federal agent. She hadn’t turned him in, though. They had kissed again (passionately) and parted, Ray somehow trusting that, if their paths were meant to cross again, it would happen.

Fraser hadn’t understood Ray letting her go like that. Even though, at first, Fraser had assumed it was a concussion rather than genuine emotion when Ray began rambling on about the beautiful woman who had run him down and with whom he’d fallen in love. The cop had thought himself, surprisingly enough, more of a romantic than the Mountie.

So Ray had a mystery, for he never really did know who Susan was, and he had a dream of something that was almost possible. But perhaps the answer was really that, while he could dream, he was afraid to seize that dream when it was within his grasp. Afraid to seize it and live with it and be it. Afraid to really challenge his dream, and be challenged in turn.

There was Ray, alone in the interrogation room, still astounded. Eventually, Benton Fraser found him. They regarded each other for a while. Ray sighed. This was the man – 

This was the man who, having recovered his wolf, had spotted a beautiful dark green Buick Riviera driving down the street with a _for sale_ sign taped in one window. Ray and Fraser had chased after it through the wet streets, trying to catch up, almost slipping over more than once, Ray madly trying to memorise the phone number on the sign. They must have looked ridiculous, chasing after that particular dream. This was the man – 

‘We need to talk,’ Ray said. Fraser dutifully led the way out into the corridor. ‘No,’ Ray amended, having an attack of truth-speaking, ‘actually I need to talk to you.’

The Mountie indicated the door to the tiny closet they usually used for private discussion when at the station.

Ray looked at it, deadpan. ‘I don’t think so.’ He cleared his throat. ‘Look, can I drive you home? Are we done here?’

Looking determinedly honourable, Fraser said, ‘If your intention is to ask me about Francesca, Ray, I don’t believe –’

‘Not about my sister. I want to talk to you _because_ of her, yes, but not about her.’

‘Yes,’ said Fraser, as serious as ever, answering Ray’s two questions and agreeing to his plans.

They said no more, and headed for the car. Ray ran a hand over this new Riviera that wasn’t quite his yet, but that he would come to love. He got in and drove it carefully, in Fraser’s silence, still learning how the engine performed and responded, the idiosyncrasies of the steering, the give and take and mood of this thing that was so much more than metal and gas and rubber.

A car was an extension of a person, a sixth sense (and Ray pitied anyone who thought a car was in any way compensation for a lack of anything, for they obviously had problems). Ray was aware of where each of the car’s extremities were and, though there were the smallest differences compared to his old Riviera, he was gradually comfortably shrugging into this new second skin. Yes, give him a couple more weeks and Ray would fall in love and in lust with this car as badly as he’d done with the last.

Fraser, apparently, had no idea of any of this – though, as he’d said, he respected this most inexplicable of Ray’s relationships.

The silence continued, even once they’d reached Fraser’s rooms. Again, dimness and difficulty, and the Mountie impeccable and clean in the middle of it all. Standing there, waiting for Ray to talk.

‘Where’s Diefenbaker?’ Ray finally asked – missing the wolf, though Ray really didn’t want the embarrassment of witnesses right now. And who knew how the animal would react?

‘He’s spending the night with his family,’ Fraser explained. ‘What did you want to talk about, Ray?’

‘I need to know,’ Ray said, stranded by the door, ‘who you’re waiting for. You’re waiting for love, I know, but is it that woman? Victoria. Are you hoping she’ll come back, once she’s sorted out the darkness in her?’

Fraser paused, then carefully asked, ‘This isn’t about your sister?’

‘No.’

‘No, I’m not waiting for Victoria. I don’t even know if it was love, Ray, but I do know she won’t come back. That time together, it was…’

‘The aurora borealis, yeah.’

‘As beautiful and as strange, and as brief.’ There was a silence again, for Ray didn’t know what to ask next. Fraser said, ‘I’m sorry that I can’t love Francesca, Ray.’

‘I know. I don’t know if I –’ _No, I’m really not sorry, selfish bastard that I am._ But he wasn’t anywhere close to declaring his own interest. Instead Ray asked, ‘Look, don’t you have a life back in Canada? You belong there. I mean, being a Mountie is important to you, so why aren’t you back there being one? Surely you can stay out of the way in the Yukon or wherever, just as easily as losing yourself here in Chicago. I know you don’t lie, but I can’t believe that _no one_ in Canada likes you anymore. There’s something in you that doesn’t belong to city streets and –’ Ray threw up his hands. ‘Why are you still here, Fraser?’

‘I feel I am of use here, as much use here as anywhere else. I have to confess that the job at the consulate can seem a little meaningless at times –’

‘You don’t say,’ Ray muttered, glad to hear Fraser admit as much. The Mountie was worth more than opening doors and delivering mail.

‘– but you allow me to work with you in your jurisdiction, on cases that I find challenging and rewarding.’ A pause, and then Fraser said, ‘I have very few friends. I know you’ll think me a sap, Ray, but I value your friendship, and I will miss you when we part ways.’

‘Is all that enough for you?’

‘Enough reason to remain here?’ Fraser queried. ‘Yes.’

‘I don’t know. Something’s missing.’

In his forthright way, Fraser said, ‘I’m not sure what you need to hear, or why. There are other Mounties who are comrades, who have been loyal to me in the past. But they are not friends, especially now. The only family I had were my grandparents. They’re dead, and they hadn’t needed me for years before that. There is no one to call me back.’

Having failed to think of a good way of raising the topic, Ray blurted out, ‘That time I made love to you –’

‘I don’t think it would be wise to talk of it.’ 

‘Excuse me?’ That was the last reaction Ray had expected.

‘You didn’t want to talk of it then,’ Fraser reminded him, eyes catching that distancing glint again. ‘I’m not sure that we should now.’

‘Fraser – Don’t be that hard on me, not now of all times. See, I need to dream of something again, something that I can have – Not a mystery, not an impossibility. I need to live a dream, seize it and be it.’ Ray found himself saying things he hadn’t even consciously thought yet. ‘I guess I’ve always been afraid I don’t deserve it, or I couldn’t make it work.’

The Mountie was simply watching him, maybe understanding and maybe not.

‘But I don’t see what makes this any different for you. Why is it, when you could have any woman in Chicago, that you have no one? You’re not gay, that’s not it. Though obviously you’re open-minded, or flexible, or whatever. But why should I hope you loving me isn’t an impossibility, when you loving Francesca is? This is absolutely crazy, and I have no idea why I’m even talking to you about it.’

A silence, and then Fraser said in his even, serious voice, ‘I don’t understand what you’re asking of me, Ray.’

‘I guess – Hell, this is hard. I mean, I know you probably see a darkness in me, too, but it’s not going to drive me away from you – in fact…’ Ray took a deep breath, and said, ‘You bring out the best in me, Fraser, and I love you for it.’

‘I thank you kindly for telling me that, Ray.’ 

‘That’s it?’

Fraser offered him the gentlest of wry smiles. ‘I’m afraid I still don’t understand exactly what you want. And I’m also afraid you’ve misunderstood me. Actually, that’s my fault, because I didn’t tell you everything. Victoria had a darkness, but so do I, Ray. I make most of my decisions based on reason, because there’s a morality to it, and because society and the law are about reason and order. But I’ve come to realise that decisions can also be based on emotion, and there’s a truth and a morality there that can be greater than reason.’ The Mountie was having a difficult time with this idea, as if he was still coming to terms with it himself. ‘The trouble – the darkness for me has been in making those decisions where the morality of reason and the morality of emotion are in conflict.’

‘Is that a problem here?’ Ray asked. ‘Because I don’t want to think about any of that unless I really need to.’

‘I don’t know if it’s a problem, Ray. Tell me what you want.’

‘Could you be with me with honour? That’s what I want.’

‘Be with you how?’

‘Ah, you know very well, Fraser, damn it.’ Ray took another breath, trying to find his courage. He should have remembered that the Mountie liked to have things made clear beforehand. ‘Would it be imposing on our friendship for us to be – lovers?’

‘No.’

Ray waited for further information, fearing the worst. ‘No, we can’t be lovers? Or, no, it wouldn’t be imposing?’

Surprisingly enough, Fraser was almost grinning. ‘No, it would not be an imposition. And, to answer your previous question, I believe that emotion and most of reason would be in accord.’ Serious again, he added, ‘If this is a mistake, it’s not quite the same one I made last time.’

Incredible. This handsome guy, sweet and honest through and through, was prepared to – ’Why me?’ Ray asked, suspicious of this unusually good fortune. ‘I don’t see why I get to have your love when no one else does.’

‘Because we’re friends, Ray. We have a relationship of love and respect already, and that matters a great deal to me. You’ve shown me that we can have passion between us as well. And I like you, very much. Your opinion of your own qualities does not do them justice.’

‘Fraser –’

‘I tried it differently last time,’ Fraser said quietly. ‘I trusted in the aurora borealis, but I was wrong. That was no basis for a meaningful relationship, or for the difficult decisions that had to be made. This time is different; we have a strong friendship to build on.’

‘Yeah, not just electrons or whatever, and pretty colours in the sky,’ Ray put in.

‘Although, when you wouldn’t talk to me about the first time we made love together, I feared I had made a similar mistake, and relied on a passing attraction.’

‘It’s more than that, Fraser,’ Ray said with all the sincerity he could find. ‘It’s taken a hell of a lot more than that to give me the nerve to be talking to you now.’

‘I know, Ray.’

They were standing maybe ten feet apart, almost as far apart as the room would allow. Fraser seemed as relaxed and certain as ever, and he was smiling again. It occurred to Ray that maybe the Mountie had needed something different to break through to him, perhaps his habits and patterns and defences had been too unchangeable for too long. Perhaps he had needed time to get to know someone as a friend – and the female predators out there simply hadn’t given him any room to move – though that didn’t quite explain the mysterious Victoria. Well, if a Chicago man of Italian background couldn’t crack such a difficult case, then who could? Ray grinned. ‘I’m going to say this once, Fraser, because it has to be said. I’ll say it once and get it over with.’

‘I wish you wouldn’t,’ the fellow murmured. 

‘A Mountie always gets his man.’

Fraser treated this as it deserved, and ignored it.

Only half serious, Ray asked, ‘How’s Diefenbaker going to take this?’

‘I’m fairly sure he’ll approve. I’ve spoken to him a couple of times about you.’ The Mountie seemed charmingly shy about being caught confiding in his wolf friend. He explained, ‘Diefenbaker can keep a secret better than anyone else I know. In any case, he seemed quite encouraging. I’ve been alone most of my life, Ray, and Diefenbaker knows that during the last few years I’ve become lonely as well.’ He suggested, ‘Perhaps you could begin by calling me Benton.’

‘Yes. Of course. Benton.’ But it still felt so formal. Ray took a risk and tried, ‘Benny.’

The smile grew. ‘No one’s called me that since I was a boy.’

Another silence, and Ray still too afraid to move.

‘Perhaps you could kiss me. I liked you kissing me, Ray.’ The bastard sounded amused, but he was sincere when he added, ‘It felt like you meant it.

‘Yeah, I meant it, lover,’ Ray said easily, still not game enough to just walk over and do that. Imagine him, Ray Vecchio, finally getting lucky in love. But then something occurred to him, and he groaned in despair. ‘You know what? This is going to be wonderful, it really is, but it’s also going to be a very short-lived thing, which I’m sorry about, believe me. This is all going to be over soon, because Francesca is going to kill me.’

‘Ah. Yes.’ Fraser, of course, was concerned – and Ray sent up a quick prayer that the Mountie wouldn’t change his mind about the cop because of a sister’s hurt feelings. Fraser tentatively suggested, ‘Maybe if I talked to her…’

‘No,’ Ray hastily said, ‘it’s better coming from me. She’ll want to hear it from someone she can throw things at.’ Ray sighed. ‘She’ll hate me with a vengeance for a while, and mourn for you, and wonder what on earth you want with me. And then, in time – like in ten years, or so – she’ll finally be pleased by how happy I am, and she’ll be glad at having the kindest man in the world for a brother-in-law, and she won’t even remember –’ Ray ground to a halt, fearing he’d let his imagination and his mouth go way too far. He began afresh rather than let the heavy silence return – ‘Of course by then she’ll be married again, with three Italian brats of her own and a husband she adores, and she’ll still be a knock-out even though she’s put on ten pounds.’

Fraser wasn’t going to let him get away with it. ‘You plan for us to still be together in ten years, and you’ll be happy, and the Vecchio family will consider me as an in-law.’

‘Yeah. Yeah, sure, I guess. Is that imposing on the friendship?’

‘No, not at all.’

‘Good.’ Ray cast his gaze about the dim grotty room, wondering at how big a fool he could be.

‘Ray, perhaps you could kiss me now. Ten years is a long time, and we had better get started.’

‘Ten years, hell,’ Ray said, finally beginning to walk over to the fellow. ‘Italians believe in lifetimes for this kind of thing.’

Fraser was looking rather happy. He took a couple of steps, too, and welcomed Ray into his arms, giving himself to the embrace with charming sincerity.

‘What about Canadians, Benny?’

‘Yes,’ Fraser replied. ‘Lifetimes. Mounties and wolves in particular are known for it.’

‘That’s good,’ Ray said. And then at last he shut up because he really wanted to kiss this man…

♦


End file.
